Alice
by Llewellyn McEllis
Summary: Head Boy Frank Longbottom's got a secret crush, but he's also got a problem he's shy! Join Frank Longbottom as he begins unraveling the mystery of Alice Delaney.
1. Intro:  The Skates on the Pond

_A/N: This fic is experimental in nature, as it was inspired by the musical play by Tom Waits and Kathleen Brennan: Alice. The lyrics to the songs in this musical are often a parallel between inevitable darkness and playful beauty, something I hope to capture in this story. _**  
**

**Alice**

_It's dreamy weather we're on  
You waved your crooked wand  
Along an icy pond with a frozen moon  
A murder of silhouette crows I saw  
And the tears on my face  
And the skates on the pond  
They spell Alice. . ._

_-Tom Waits- Alice(Brennan/Waits © 1992)_

"Come on, Longbottom," Geoff Diggory leaned halfway into the dormitory room from the busy hallway. "All the ice'll melt before you finish that bloody essay for McGonagall. How many inches of parchment was it? Forty-two?"

"Twenty-four. I'll be there in a bit," Frank replied, barely lifting his head from the book he was bent over. His hand started to glide across the parchment again, the steady lines and curves of his penmanship forming words and symbols as the feather of his quill trembled with each gentle stroke. "Go on without me. I'll catch up."

"That's what you said yesterday," Geoff sighed.

"And the day before that," Thedrick Cowell popped up behind Geoff. "You can't stay in here all day mate. It's almost the holidays. Get out, come skating with us."

"You only live once," Thedrick's twin, Merrick piped in. "Transfiguration will always be there, Longbottom."

"But Alice won't." Thedrick added.

Frank's hand paused in mid-letter, the feather steadying just before a sigh of breath escaped him, ruffling the plume. "I'll be there in a bit," he repeated, a little more thoughtfully, for now his mind was on Alice Delaney. Alice, whose hair was the shade of meadow grass in summer, whose eyes were like two ripe blueberries. Alice. . . who didn't even know he existed.

"She's not going to notice you if you're never around, Longbottom." Geoff reminded him.

"I'll only write to the end of the parchment, and then I'll be there, I swear." None of them believed him, but stood blinking insolently in his wake. Frank gave a chuckle, the corners of his green eyes gathering cheerfully as his face lit up. "Go on then you lot, off with you! I won't get any work done with you standing about looking clever."

"All work and no play," Thedrick's shoulders slumped as he backed out of the doorway.

Merrick picked up where his brother had left off, "Makes Frank a dull boy."

"Indeed," Geoff agreed. "That it does," and that was the last Frank heard from his roommates before they closed the door behind them, merging with the cheerful commotion that had gripped Gryffindor tower.

He was still chuckling to himself as he read aloud from the last words he'd written, "The properties of a full grown alynxissus hydrobotamus make transfiguration impossible because of excess amounts of. . ." he tapped the point of his quill against the inkwell. "Excess amounts of. . . damn!" He flipped back over his notes, turned the pages backward in his book and skimmed it all again, but couldn't retrace the origin of his thought.

Frank closed the books on his desk with a sigh. Now that his mind had turned to Alice there would be no turning back, but he couldn't go down to the lake and he knew it. Professor Flitwick had charmed the surface with a healthy layer of ice, and Professor Dumbledore had handed out skates Friday evening at dinner. Frank hadn't been down to the Lake all weekend. He'd found some excuse or another to get out of going, always promising to show up later because he knew Alice would be there, and he couldn't skate. He'd look the fool standing on the sidelines watching as the giggling girls whooshed and whirled by in flashes of bright color as their hair and scarves caught in the currents of wind.

His friends would try to humiliate him, and Alice would think he was stupid. . .

He got up and walked to the window. The Fifth floor overlooked the school grounds, and out over the snow spattered grass Frank watched specks of blue and bronze, red and gold, green and silver, black and yellow, as they huddled close and made way toward the lake. Puffs of breath hung over their heads like little clouds, while his careful green eyes scanned over the crowd in search of her. It was a perfect day. He wished that he'd gone out with the rest of them now that he was alone there in the tower.

There were already students out on the lake, spiraling in graceful pirouettes, the colors on their scarves melting together in blurs of brilliance. He saw Lily Evans first; the rich auburn flow of her hair giving her away. Even from that distance, he could clearly see her face and she was laughing while her friend waved frantic arms to try and maintain balance. It was Alice, he noticed, skidding toward Lily, her head back as coils of laughter shook her shoulders. Lily reached out and braced the other girl's hands first and then her arms, but the movement had already been decided, the struggle already anticipated, and wildly laughing, the two girls fell bottoms first onto the ice.

"Some Gryffindor you are, Longbottom," he muttered. "How you ever managed to make Head Boy I'll never know." He would have given anything for the courage to put on his hat and scarf to head out there to talk to her, to hear Alice say more than just hello to him. He watched as she and Lily helped each other to stand again. James Potter came whizzing through between them, vying for Lily's attention. Alice laughed again, but Lily was obviously not amused.

He felt like such an idiot, standing in the windows watching the world go on outside. If only he could convince himself that talking to her was not the end of the world. The worst she could say was bugger off, Frank, but it was the idea of her actually saying it made his throat ache somewhere near the back. Bugger off, Frank was a chance he just wasn't willing to take. So he watched her from a distance, admiring her laughter from the confinement of Gryffindor Tower, where with his arms crossed and mind made up, Frank Longbottom watched the girl of his dreams skate gracefully over the frozen lake.

The smooth, white-blue surface had become a series of white scars and slashes, swirling figure eights and looping letters. He couldn't be sure, but he swore that underneath it all, the lines and swirls grouped together to spell out her name. Yes, indeed it had. Emblazoned there across the lake was the word Alice. He hadn't even realized it, but he'd been watching her trace it there, over and over with her skates. Lily had done the same, but hers wasn't near as obvious to him.


	2. All I Can Think of Is Alice

**Chapter One: Skating on Her Name**

_And I must be insane  
To go skating on your name  
And by tracing it twice  
I fell through the ice  
Of Alice  
There's only Alice_

_(Alice. ©Waits/Brennan 1992)_

Frank hadn't made it out to the lake like he'd promised his friends he would. Instead, he stood in the window watching them all have the times of their lives, laughing, learning, and enjoying the camaraderie that could only rarely be achieved between all four houses during events such as ice skating. For some reason, there was no direct competition established between the natural foes and rivals and even though the typical few had squared off in mock competitions, it was more good-natured than usual. James Potter and Rabastan Lestrange raced across the lake like men possessed, desperately trying to prove their athletic prowess to anyone who might have thought to challenge either of them. Mostly though, Frank had watched Alice and Lily, a lightness of heart swelling in him every time he imagined the abundant comfort of their laughter when one of them fell, or went skidding out of control across the slippery, silver surface.

When at last the sun had started to fade into the western horizon, auburn hues embraced the rising twilight. Students began to file into the Great Hall for the evening meal in small packs, separating from the brief unity they had experienced only moments before by around the house tables. Frank had put aside his essay, which he'd all but given up on shortly after his friends had left, and went down to dinner.

Everyone's faces were pink from the cold, and the crowds were unusually rowdy that evening. He had given two Slytherin Third-years a warning for running up the stairway and handed out a detention to a Fifth-year Ravenclaw who had knocked over two people in her hurry to get to the Great Hall before her roommate. He passed by Narcissa Black, who smiled at him with such sickening sweetness he thought he'd be sick from it. "Hello, Frankie," she purred.

Her calling him that was meant to demean him, and the fact that she had lowered herself to even acknowledge him should have made him feel special, but it didn't. "Hello, Narcissa," he sighed. Every boy in school from the Fifth year up was obsessed with the attention and affection of the Ice Queen, Narcissa Black, but not Frank. He thought she was a pain in the arse, always nagging him about pettythings and trying to manipulate him into taking on her Head Girl responsibilities when she didn't feel like carrying them out herself.

"I didn't see you out on the lake this afternoon," she noted. "I would have thought you, a big, strong quidditch captain would have taken any opportunity to get out there and show off."

"I was busy," he shrugged her off, brushing past her and heading straight toward the Gryffindor table. He heard her say something about his being rude, but what it was he didn't know or care. He distracted himself easily by focusing on the childish antics of two Fifth-year Gryffindor students, "Oy, Potter, Black that'll be enough of that. Keep the snitch in your pocket or lose it," he warned. "We don't need that thing flying around wreaking havoc at dinner."

James Potter winked, and saluted, "Aye-aye captain!"

"Hi, Frank," Lily waved sweetly before leaning across the table again with her index finger in the center of Remus Lupin's book.

"Hi, Frank," Remus added.

"Hello, Lily, Remus," he smiled. He had only really come to know both of them that year, when they had been made prefects, and he was glad for it because through Lily, he had come to know Alice.

Alice sat beside Lily, her round face a rich, red hue that drew out the incredible blue of her eyes. Wisps of pale-brown hair framed her cheeks and brow, falling just across her cheek as she turned her face downward to look into Remus' book. She hadn't even noticed him, but instead of saying hello to her, drawing attention to himself, he walked by and joined his friends at the end of the table, who immediately began to razz him about always having his nose in some book.

Frank spent much of dinner ignoring their banter and keeping his eye out for Alice. Several times he caught the distant remnants of she and Lily giggling and caught James Potter scowling in the direction. Frank didn't know why, but he sympathized with James, while at the same time thought the boy deserved whatever he got. He was such a prat, always bending over backwards to make an impression that went right over the head of the girl he adored. Usually it seemed to have the adverse effect, which only incensed James. Poor bloke, Frank thought, looking over Alice again. At least Potter had the courage to try to get Lily's attention. Frank couldn't even think straight when he tried to imagine being in the same room with Alice.

He'd never noticed her until this year, and for that he felt a little guilty, but then he'd been assigned the Head Boy position, and put in charge of the prefects. Yeah, he'd probably seen her around the school before that, but he hadn't really noticed her until the train ride back to school. He remembered she'd worn a navy blue ribbon choker with a dazzling silver pendant and both contrasted against her pale complexion and drew all of his attention to her eyes. It was her eyes that had won him, and she'd only consciously looked into them that one time.

He couldn't help himself. It, or rather she had become something of an obsession of late, he realized, and one that had the potential to become most unhealthily debilitating if he didn't at least try to talk to her. Everywhere he went, his mind was on Alice. He was always trying to sneak on last glance over his shoulder at her.

"Come on, Longbottom, you're holding up the line." Geoff nudged him through the door of their dormitory room after dinner, pushing his way in and diving toward his bed.

The twins were bantering about who should rightfully ask Janissa Stewart to Hogsmeade next when Merrick changed the subject to ask, "Where's your essay for McGonagall, Frank? I wanted to see if I named all the debilitating properties of the alynxissus hydrobotamus."

"I didn't finish it," he muttered.

"What?" the identical boys astounded.

Frank closed the door behind him and started toward his bed, "I said I haven't finished it yet."

"Longbottom, you were up here all afternoon working on it," Thedrick pointed out.

Merrick mimicked his brother's wrinkled brow almost perfectly, "You were up here for hours, Frank."

"What were you doing—"

"—if not working on your essay?"

Geoff had propped himself up on a pillow and opened the most recent edition of i Rogue Warlock /i , "He was daydreaming," he said. "Watching out the window."

"I wasn't," Frank insisted.

"Saw him with my own two eyes, I did," Geoff said.

Frank looked away from them completely, but not before casting a scowling glance in Diggory's direction as he walked toward his desk and gathered up his books, "I'm going to the library."

"Oh, no you don't, Longbottom. What gives?" Thedrick asked.

"Yeah, Frank, why didn't you just come down to the lake?" Merrick added.

"I don't know," he shrugged.

Geoff was grinning smugly, even though he hadn't looked up from his magazine, "Can't skate, can you, Frank?"

"Of course I can skate," he feigned indignation, but even he could tell that his face had reddened with the embarrassment of truth burning under the skin. "I'm captain of the Quidditch team." He pointed out.

"And you skate so often while you're out on the pitch," Geoff rolled his eyes.

"Well. . ."

"Well nothing," Merrick shook his head. "Why didn't you just say so? We could show you."

"Yeah," Thedrick nodded. "We could show you."

Frank could feel the burn under his skin flaring, "And when are you going to do that without humiliating me in front of the entire school?"

Geoff looked up finally, "We could sneak out after light's out."

"Yeah!" Thedrick chimed in.

"Tonight's the full moon. . ."

"I don't know, guys," Frank shook his head. "I don't think Professor Dumbledore is going to give us special permission to go out on the lake after hours just so I can learn to skate."

"Ha!" Geoff remarked. "So you admit it then, that you can't skate!" Frank said nothing. "Besides, who said anything about asking for permission. Don't be such a good boy, Frank. Live a little."

"Easy for you to say. Your mother won't hang you out a window by your ears if you lose Head Boy!"

The twins rolled their eyes in unison before Thedrick said, "See, Longbottom, that's your problem—"

"—you go into everything pre-defeated. Don't think like you're going to get caught and you won't get caught."

"Excellent advice, Merry."

"Thank you, Ted."

Geoff leaned into the discussion with a little more enthusiasm, "I say we wait until midnight. We'll sneak out for a couple of hours and teach old Frank here how to skate like a man."

"I say that's a brilliant idea, Diggory," Thedrick said.

"I'm in full agreement," Merry replied.

Frank's famous last words, "I don't know if this is such a good idea, you guys. . ."

vvv

"Everything secure, Mr. Longbottom?" Frank started at the sound of the headmaster's voice, the skates clattering against one another as they dangled in his left hand by the string.

"Er—uh yes, yes sir," he fumbled over his words. "Everything seems to be completely secure. I've checked all the floors above ground. All the students are in bed, and Miss Black promised to check the dungeons, but I was going to do a final walkthrough, just to make sure she held up her end of the bargain."

Professor Dumbledore's blue eyes flashed mischievously as the twitchings of a smile danced behind his long, silver mustache. "Very good," he nodded. "And were you off to bed yourself then, Frank?"

"I. . ." Frank didn't know what to say. He hated the very idea of lying to the headmaster, but after much convincing by the other guys, he was now bent on getting outside, out to the lake so he could at least try his luck at skating. He'd charm his feet if he had to, transfigure himself into a skate, anything to get over that ridiculous fear that he would humiliate himself in front of her. "I was on my way to bed, actually."

"In your coat and hat?" The shimmering, impish reflection never wavered in the headmaster's eyes, but Frank couldn't see it. He was looking down at his shoes, trying to imagine what it would be like to lose his Head Boy privileges for sneaking out. "I see," the professor replied. "Have I ever told you, Mr. Longbottom, that I find the reflection of a full moon across a frozen lake most poetic."

Frank stammered several times over the words he wanted to say, but nothing came out. He was dumbfounded. "Uh, no sir," he managed, swallowing against the suffocating dryness in the back of his throat.

As if in anticipating the young man's train of thought, Professor Dumbledore said, "A little rebellion now and then does a wizard good, and the full moon encourages men to do things they might not normally do," and then he started away, calling back over his shoulder in a quiet tone, "Good night, Frank."

Frank said nothing, even when Geoff stepped out of the shadow and exclaimed, "That was close!" in an exaggerated whisper. Merry and Ted clambered out from behind him making enough racket to grab the headmaster's attention, but Professor Dumbledore never looked back.

After he had disappeared around the corner, the four of them, bundled together and walked right out the front doors of the castle.


	3. Skating on Her Name

** Chapter Two: Skating on Her Name **

And I must be insane  
To go skating on your name  
And by tracing it twice  
I fell through the ice  
Of Alice. . .  
(Alice. ©Waits/Brennan 1992)

The four boys moved through the silvery night in silence. Their breath was like engine steam, at least that was what Frank and his older brother, Algerard, used to pretend when they were boys. Chugging around the yard, Algie was always the steam engine, and their mum used to say that sounded just about right because Algie didn't know the meaning of the words quiet and he was capable of huffing off enough steam to power an entire freight. Funny, Frank thought, even as they tiptoed and crept without word toward the lake, they were all four steam engines, generating enough power to fuel the Hogwarts Express and this thought made him grin.

It was even funnier to him that they were breaking the rules to ice-skate, the one thing Frank Longbottom had always swore to himself he would never do. It was ice-skating that had killed his brother. . . wait, he stopped himself. Saying it that way seemed to suggest a violent death in which much suffering had been experienced. Although if one were to ask Frank's mum, she might disagree that her firstborn son had gone in peace, but Frank still remembered the look on his older brother's face when they pulled him out of the lake. He'd been blue, the most unnatural shade of blue Frank had ever seen, and his lips were like violets. He looked like a ghost, Frank thought, glassed-over eyes shining like marbles, and he was smiling. It was the subtle smile on the older boys purple mouth that suggested to Frank he had gone exactly as he should have, and wherever he went beyond the veil of souls Algie was happy there.

On the other hand, he thought, just because Algie was happy there didn't mean Frank wanted to go there himself. He wasn't ready for death yet. He had so much to do, so much to see, and boy would his mum be miffed! Like all thoughts Frank Longbottom had, he found himself wondering how Alice Delaney would react. Would she cry if Frank turned up dead, or was he just another boy to her, like all the others they passed by in the castle hallways between classes every day?

It was perhaps this thought that discouraged him, the thought that Alice wouldn't even notice he was gone. An uneasy shiver moved through him and he faltered in his step. "Let's go back, mates," he said.

"Don't be a clucker, Longbottom," Geoff sighed, his breath a steady, full throttle steam. "It's only ice."

"Did you know I had a brother once," Frank said.

"Yeah?"

Merry and Ted leaned closer, "For real, Longbottom? A brother? Younger or older?"

"'is name was Algerard," Frank replied. "He was older than me."

"What happened to 'im?" Merry asked.

"He was nine when I was six," Frank said distantly. "It was just before St. Lucy's Day, and Mum said we were allowed to play on the pond at the bottom of the hill because it had frozen over. Last thing she said to Algie was 'Be careful with your brother, Algerard! I'll never forgive you if something happens to him.'"

"Oh no," Ted mumbled.

"Yeah, she forgot to say she'd never forgive me if something happened to him while he was trying to protect me."

"You were just a kid, Frankie," Geoff interjected. "Surely your mum can't hold you responsible for it."

"No," he shrugged. "Maybe not, but I expect that's why she's so hard on me. She expects me to live in his place. Make up for all he's lost."

The three other boys were silent for a long moment. In the distant town of Hogsmeade came the bitter howl of a lone wolf, a werewolf, Frank thought, and he shivered. Wouldn't it just figure if while breaking school rules and chancing his skates on the ice even though he knew his mother would never approve, he found himself victim of a werewolf? Why was his mind programmed to work that way? Whenever he faced some dangerous challenge he could feel the constraints of fear gripping tight around his windpipe so that he could scarcely breathe, and yet he was amazing on a broom. Not a single other Quidditch player could outfly him. Was this any different than Quidditch? Was the risk any less?

As though he'd read Frank's thoughts, Geoff shattered the chilling silence and said, "That's exactly why you need to do this, Longbottom. What would your brother do?"

"I don't know," Frank looked away. He remembered the unchanging smile that had lifted the corners of his brother's purple mouth. It was a satisfied grin, the kind that would come after the winning of some grand reward. Had death been Algie's grand reward? "I guess he would go for it."

"Bloody hell right he would!" A wicked smile dawned on Geoff's lips, but Merry and Ted were both severely put off. Neither of them was near as enthusiastic as they had been when they originally set out on their journey to the lake, and as the four of them started walking again, the gripping silence held them all in its sway, making the rest of the moonlit walk rather grim.

They reached the edge of the lake and Geoff was the first to sit down on one of the benches Professor McGonagall had transfigured from rocks so that the students would have a place to lace up their skates. "Oy, Diggory," Merry twisted his mouth into a curious scowl. "What d'you s'pose happens to the Giant Squid when the lake's frozen?"

"Hibernation?" Geoff guessed.

Frank was grinning. It was a bit of a rebellious and courageous grin if ever he'd grinned one before, and the notion of what they were doing despite the number of rules they were breaking to do it seemed to fuel his desire to continue. If Alice could see him now, he thought, perhaps she wouldn't be so quick to dismiss his existence. She might think he was rather clever and dashing, if not even a bit attractive for it. Frank Longbottom, Head Boy and rule breaker extraordinaire!

"Come on, Longbottom," Geoff called out. "Get your bloody skates on already."

"All right, all right," he glanced out over the lake, which shone like a silver pool in the moonlight. Lines and circles wrought by an afternoon of skating teens glinted in the moon's light, which reached across the surface of the frozen lake. It was a beautiful amalgamation of loops and figure eights, sharp edges, squares and triangles, and for a moment he wondered if he'd even be able to find her name amongst the other cuts and slices. Alice, the intricate design of her cursive carving into the hoary surface, and mirroring across from it was Lily's concise moniker for all the world to see. Frank had seen them both from his dormitory window, surely they wouldn't be so difficult to find in the moonlight up close.

"Come on, Frank," Ted urged before gliding out onto the lake with a woosh.

"It's not as hard as it looks," Merry added, following his twin's example. Frank chuckled.

The twins looked as though they were walking on water, taking long, flowing steps full of grace and beauty. He tried to imagine himself doing that with the ease they demonstrated, but Geoff clunked up behind him, his ice-skates chopping into the snowy earth with every step, and Frank swallowed hard against the lump that had sprung quickly into his suddenly aching throat. "Let's get those skates on you, Frankie."

Frank knew that despite Geoff's abrasive act, he was really only trying to help. Frank needed to face his fear, not just of ice-skating but of Alice herself, and in the other boys mind, this lesson on the lake was the first step toward recovery. Inwardly Frank laughed at this notion. Him facing his fear of Alice. . . even the fact that he feared Alice in the first place seemed preposterous, but just thinking about the girl made it hard for him to breathe. It was like ice laced his lungs on the inside with every breath he drew inside himself, and he hardly noticed that Geoff was leading him over to the bench to change into his skates.

"You're sure this isn't dangerous, Diggory?"

"Come on, Longbottom," Geoff scoffed. "You're captain of the Quidditch team. You do death-defying sorts of acts all the time. No offense about your brother and all, but you honestly can't be that worried about a bit of ice-skating."

"Well, sure I can," he insisted, but on the inside he knew his fear was ridiculous, just like his fear of Alice was ridiculous, and the only way to get over it was by embracing it and facing it, or both if possible. "But anyway, I want to do this."

"For Alice?" Geoff asked.

"No, for myself, you ninny!" An uncomfortable laugh escaped Frank when he said this. He wasn't so sure if he _was_ doing it for himself or not.

For the most part it was for him, he thought, and maybe a little for Alice on the inside. He still remembered watching her from his window, how free she'd looked sliding across the ice. It was such a different thing for her, as usually she was very clumsy and unsure of herself, at least he had gathered as much in his observations of her. Alice was rather well-known in Honeydukes as the girl who wasn't allowed to touch anything for fear of wreaking massive destruction with a single fingertip of admiration. She was famous in charms for aiming objects well outside her scope, but more than anything she was that klutzy girl that was going to be tossed out of potions forever because of her adverse relationship with mixtures.

He was grinning again, favorably in her honor because even though her reputation preceded her, he could never quite wrap his mind around that clumsy image of her, and seeing her that afternoon on the lake reinforced her perfect form in his mind.

Frank laced up his skates quickly and tied them at the top, but when he tried to stand, he wavered and wobbled unsteadily on the blades and muttered an uneasy, "Whoa!" before reaching out to grab at Geoff's forearm. Ted and Merry whizzed by them again, shooting a spray of ice crystals with the back of their skates onto their companions as their laughter crawled toward the center of the lake.

"Do you want me to charm your skates?" Geoff asked.

"Of course not!"

"Well, I won't think any less of you if you change your mind," the other shrugged.

"You won't?"

"Nah. You have to start somewhere."

Frank scrunched his nose a little, the left side of his face drawing higher than the right as he did, "Isn't that a bit like cheating though?"

"Not really. It'll give you a feel for the motion."

"Well, in that case. . ."

"I won't tell a soul," he promised with a wink.

"All right, then," Frank smiled.

When Frank agreed to the charmed skates he had no idea what he was really in for, but he knew that it would let him do the one thing he had been dreaming of ever since he'd seen Alice and Lily inscribing their names over the surface of the lake. He could skate across her name. Perhaps he could even write his own name above hers. Frank Loves Alice. . . yes, it was silly, even a little juvenile, but it was unlikely anyone else would ever read it.

Geoff tapped his wand against Frank's skates and muttered an animation incantation. Frank could feel his feet and ankles tingling, drawing him forward toward the lake. "When you want the charm to stop, just tap your wand against the skates and say Finite Animatato."

" _ Finite Animatato_," Frank repeated, nodding his head slowly. "Got it."

"Are you ready then?"

Frank shuddered, "As ready as I'll ever be, I guess."

"Then let's go!"

Geoff stepped out onto the ice with a graceful movement that made it look so simple. Even with charmed skates Frank didn't believe it would be so easy. Several times he contemplated putting his foot down on the solid surface of the lake, but each false start was accompanied by a different image. The first was his brother's violet smile from beyond the veil. Next, he saw his mother's disapproving eyes. Following that he saw Alice and in his mind he imagined a horrible scene in which he had stumbled onto the ice like some bumbling idiot. Flailing madly in the center of the lake while he desperately sought to regain his balance, the graceful swan that was Alice skated circles around him in the moonlight until she had traced her name around him so many times that he fell through the ice.

The twins were laughing in the center of the lake as they spiraled together. Geoff flowed against the edges, circling the lake completely while Frank contemplated just taking off the skates and going back inside. "Come on, Frank!" her heard Ted call.

"You'll never learn to skate that way." Merry added.

"And Alice will never be impressed with how masterfully old Frank Longbottom can cut a lake! Let's go, Frankie!" Geoff flew by in a blur of moonlight blended with the colors of Gryffindor pride.

"All right," he muttered to himself. "All right, I'm coming," and then he stepped onto the lake, resisting a little as the magic in his skates began to take control. He gave a startled yelp while his feet carried him away, his arms rowing wildly in the air, but never once did he lose his balance.

The laughter of his three companions filled the night, and before he knew it, despite his struggling against the flow, Frank was laughing too. His skates carried him out across the pond and the cold wind tore mercilessly at his cheeks, but it felt good. Geoff blew by him, and grabbed onto his arm for a moment, their combined laughter going straight to Frank's head. Ted and Merry rolled past, and Frank couldn't stop laughing. It felt natural to be out there skating on that pond, even if the very act itself had been contrived by an act of magic.

"All right then, Longbottom?" Geoff called from the center of the lake.

"This is fantastic!" Frank cried out. "I've never felt so free."

He soon gained control over the skates, and could guide his feet wherever he wanted them to go. He leaned into the action, drove himself in the direction where he was certain Alice had left her mark. The moon left silver beams over the word, Alice, connected, cursive, beautiful. Frank traced over her name with his feet, slow and careful so as not to damage, but to memorize it's perfect. Alice. It was lovely and he wondered if when written in her hand it looked as nice as it did there in streams of moonlight upon the ice. Twirling back to the place where he had started, Frank traced over her name again, realizing that now that he'd done it, he had no choice but write above her, and so with great determination, he traced his own name several times over so that it cut into the ice and left its mark there in the moonlight.

His friends skated there around him, laughing and teasing, falling and slipping, sliding across the surface of the lake, but not Frank. He traced his name, and then he traced the word **_LOVES _** and just below it rested **_Alice_** . **_Frank LOVES Alice_** in the ice, and he thought it was his own little secret, but little did he know that from the girl's dormitory in Gryffindor tower Lily Evans watched on, because she was a prefect and it was her duty to monitor the activity of her fellow students, even the head boy.


	4. Everything You Can Think Of

** Chapter Three: Everything You Can Think  
**

_Everything you can think of is true  
The dish ran away with the spoon  
Dig deep in your heart for that little red glow  
We're decomposing as we go  
Everything you can think of is true  
And fishes make wishes on you  
We're fighting our way up dreamland's spine  
With red flamingos and expensive wine. . ._  
(Alice: Everything You Can Think ©Waits/Brennan 1992)

". . . Mr. Longbottom?"

Frank lifted his head from his notes at the sound of his name. His quill hand stopped over the i, as he glanced toward the head of the classroom. "I uh. . ."

Professor Minerva McGonagall had pinched her lips together in the utmost concision awaiting the answer she knew would not be coming from Frank Longbottom. She and Frank regarded one another, he narrowing grey-blue eyes cold and unforgiving as she began to pace again, "We are waiting, Mr. Longbottom."

"I'm sorry, Professor," a sheepish blush painted his cheeks a fresh shade of pink. "I wasn't paying attention."

"That is most obvious, Mr. Longbottom. Perhaps it will help your attention span if we spend detention together here this evening after dinner," she suggested, and within moments she had started her lesson again, calling on a know-it-all Slytherin girl by the name of Edora Flank to answer the question she had taunted him from his daydream with.

This was bad, and he knew it. Detention from McGonagall would not look good in the headmaster's eyes. The Head boy was not supposed to receive detention at all, and most certainly not for something so silly as daydreaming. He was to be the exemplum of good behavior. Frank remembered two nights prior, his bumping into Professor Dumbledore on his way to sneak out of the castle after hours, and groaned inwardly. Perhaps the professor would rescind his head boy privileges, or suspend his position as Gryffindor Quidditch captain. All he did know for certain, was that by the end of Transfigurations, he had a painful knot in his stomach about it that only worsened when he passed by Professor McGonagall's desk on the way out.

"Mr. Longbottom?" she stopped him. "Might I have a moment of your time, please?"

"Of c-course, Professor," he hadn't even realized that he'd stuttered, even when she squinted curiously and narrowed her eyes into silvery, grey slits of disapproval.

For the most part, Frank's experience with Professor Minerva McGonagall, head of Gryffindor House and Deputy Headmistress to the school, had always been amicable, if one could in fact consider being one of the few pupils on her list that had never received a detention from her amicable relations. Being a rather avid Quidditch fan, she had congratulated him heartily the year he'd been named Quidditch Captain, but aside from that, they rarely spoke unless he was answering a question in class.

She was well known for her lectures on proper conduct, but before she had a chance to begin whatever speech she had in store for him, he cut through her defenses with a meager apology. "I'm really sorry I was daydreaming during your lesson, Ma'am. It's just that. . . well, I haven't been sleeping right lately, and with the holiday break coming up, I haven't been able to focus on much anything, I'm afraid."

Professor McGonagall blinked uncertainly at how open and forthcoming he was, how willing to accept blame, "I see," she said. "I understand that the holidays have excited you, Mr. Longbottom," she began, "you and every other student in this castle, but I cannot excuse one of my star students from daydreaming during a very important lesson. Human to animal transfiguration is considered a necessary requirement to pass the N.E.W.T.s, and I don't mean that you must become an animagus."

"Of course not, Ma'am," he looked away—no longer able to bear the scrutiny of her hard-edged stare. "We are required to be able to successfully transfigure another human being into an animal, and then transfigure them back."

"That is correct," she tightened her mouth again, a long pause creating tension between them. "I consider you one of my most gifted students, Mr. Longbottom. We have already discussed the requirements you must achieve to even be considered this summer for the Auror training program."

"Yes," he replied.

"Well then, in the future I expect you to take your time in my classes more seriously," she said. "Do I make myself clear?"

"Perfectly clear, Professor."

"Good," he wasn't sure, but he thought she had smiled then, the corners of her mouth twitching just so as the features of her face softened from their stone façade. "Now, about your detention. . ."

He groaned on the inside, the knot in his stomach tightening in anticipation of whatever horrible punishment she had already devised for him to undergo.

"I have a group of fifth year students coming in this evening for tutoring," she explained, "but I have a prior engagement elsewhere and will not be able to make it. I expect you will show them everything they need to know." He didn't understand at first. For his detention she has having him tutor her students? Perhaps she had lost her mind or maybe she had been inspired by the uplifting spirit of the holiday season. The first instance seemed more likely. Everyone he had ever known who had been sentenced to detention with McGonagall did everything they possibly could to ensure they never had to go back. Tutoring was nothing compared to the torturous hours in which Ted and Merry had been subjected to cleaning animal dung (without any magical use whatsoever,) from the many cages the professor kept in her classroom.

He swallowed, "Of course, Professor."

"Good," this time he was sure she had smiled. She stood up from her desk and began walking him toward the door. "And never let me catch you daydreaming during one of my lessons again, Longbottom. The next time it happens I can assure you a far worse punishment."

Geoff was waiting for him in the hallway outside when he emerged, "Bad luck, Frank," he moaned sympathetically. "Detention with McGonagall's a real blow."

"It won't be so bad," Frank shrugged, shifting his books to the other arm. They were on their way to their final class of the day, Frank's favorite, Defense Against the Dark Arts.

"That's what you say now," Geoff himself was a repeat offender when it came to detention with McGonagall. He claimed to enjoy spending time with the professor so much that he made it a point to land himself in her office on a weekly basis. "Trust me when I tell you, no matter how simple she made it sound, it will be your worst nightmare. Everything you can think of. . . the worst of it all, it will be waiting for you."

Now that Geoff had told him this, he reflected on how easy Professor McGonagall had made it sound, just tutoring some fifth year students. . . maybe Geoff was just pulling his leg, he thought as they ducked into their seats.

It was just tutoring. How bad could it be?

_Four hours later. . ._

Frank stood at the front of the Transfigurations classroom with his tongue so swollen in his throat that he was absolutely positive if he swallowed his anxiety, he'd swallow his tongue too. Geoff had been telling the truth. It was the worst thing he could think of, and in his mind he could see McGonagall smiling again, almost knowingly, and most definitely with a gleaming hint of malice in her stone-grey eyes. One by one the students had entered the classroom, a Hufflepuff boy he knew from Quidditch by the name of Howard Jorgensen, a Ravenclaw girl he'd never met before and would probably never remember her name, and two Gryffindors: Peter Pettigrew and Alice Delaney.

"Hello there, Frank," Peter said anxiously. He took the seat closest to the door and asked, "Where's the professor?"

"Er. . . uh. . ."

Alice was looking up at him innocently, her vivid blue eyes expectant, but calm as the sky on a perfect day.

"She. . . er. . ."

She shifted the waves of her hair over her shoulder and looked back down over her shoulder, into the bag she had brought with her. She started shuffling through it, but now that she had broken away from his gaze, his mind cleared.

"The professor had a prior engagement and couldn't be here tonight. She's asked me to tutor you," he spoke quickly, too quickly he realized, because inside his head it sound as though he'd just waggled his tongue and made a bunch of hokey, meaningless noise. "So, maybe you could all start out by telling me where it is you're having problems and I'll do the best I can to explain them to you."

"We'll have to go back to first year if you want to help me," Peter snickered sarcastically.

Frank squinted curiously at the boy who seemed to be trying on the confidence he usually wore in the company of his friends, "Right then," he replied. "I don't think we'll be going back that far, Peter. Why don't we start with your most recent lesson? What is the professor teaching you right now?"

The nameless Ravenclaw girl spoke up, "In our last lesson we were transfiguring fish into flatware."

"Fish into flatware?" Frank wrinkled his nose.

"Most specifically spoons," Alice smiled sweetly.

"All right then," he cleared his throat. "Fish into flatware," he repeated. "Well, who can tell me what the word is for that particular transfiguration?"

"Pescadilly?" Howard asked.

Easing into the role of tutor with more ease than he'd ever though he could, Frank chuckled thoughtfully, "Not quite, Howard, but you're close."

"Oh," Alice's little hand shot into the air, but on the way up, she somehow managed to knock the book off of her desk. Instinctively, Frank bent down to pick it up, but so had Alice and halfway down they bumped heads. "Oh, I'm sorry," she backed up, but the movement of her hair fluttered by his face and he caught the scent of berries and spring.

Frank rubbed the top of his head, "It's all right, Alice," he said. He started to bend down again, "Here, let me get that for you," she stayed in her seat. Retrieving her book, he laid it atop her desk and smiled shyly. "Before your book fell, you were going to say something."

"Yes," she was still smiling, and Frank couldn't deny that it was the most wonderful sight he had ever seen. It was like sunlight cresting the horizon after a sleepless night, he thought. "It's Pescansortio."

"Very good," he nodded. "Let's everyone get a fish from the professor's collection over here, and start practicing. Pescansortio, everyone say that out loud."

It was amazing, he realized. At first he had been cursing Professor McGonagall for this, thinking it was the worst thing in the world having to go through with his. He wondered how she could put him in the same room with Alice in a position that might embarrass him, reveal his feelings in some way, and expose him to her, but by the end of the tutoring session, he wondered if there hadn't indeed been some method to the professor's madness. Had she known what he was writing over and over again when he should have been taking transfigurations notes? Did she know that spending time with Alice would be both punishment and reward?

"Thank you, Frank," she was the last one to leave the room, having dropped her books several times in an attempt to organize them. "I think I'm finally getting it."

"You seem to have picked it up just fine," he couldn't look her in the eye now that they were alone. It was strange, when there were other people in the room, when he had been tutoring them all, he felt normal, like she were just another student. . . well, not just another student, she was still Alice, but he'd felt confident and strong, almost like she might not think he was an idiot. "Good luck on your exam tomorrow."

"Thank you," she smiled back over her shoulder at him just as Lily Evans appeared in the doorway.

"Ready, Alice?"

"I think so," she said. "Bye, Frank."

"Good bye," he started to lift his hand to wave, but stopped himself for fear of looking ridiculous. Lily regarded him with bemused green eyes, she smiled and waved, and then they disappeared.

There was a little red glow in his heart, and its name was Alice. Like a fire she was burning at his soul from the inside out and it was the most glorious sensation he had ever felt. It was a long time that Frank sat there in the Transfigurations classroom going over and over every moment he had spent in her company, until Argus Filch came in and threatened to have him flogged if he didn't make his rounds on the castle and head off to bed where he belonged.

He was just coming out of the classroom when he heared, "Where have you been?" Narcissa Black stood impatiently at the top of the stairway that led into the dungeons where her house was kept. "I've been waiting nearly forty minutes for you here, Longbottom."

"Why?"

"So we could do our rounds together," she said this as though it should have been the most obvious thing in the world. "I don't like doing them alone, you know that."

He felt more confident with her than he did with Alice, but it was a bold confidence, a kind of brevity that made it easy for him to resist whatever charm she used on all the other boys in the school so they fawned after her. "Why didn't you have one of your boyfriends accompany you? I'm sure Rabastan Lestrange would have happily escorted you."

Stunned, her changeable blue eyes blinked with disbelief that he had been anything but cordial with her. "Rabastan Lestrange is only a prefect, and you are the head boy, Frank. As head boy and head girl it is our duty to walk the castle every night to make sure all of the students are in their place."

"All right then," he shrugged. "You take the dungeon through the third floor, and I'll go fourth floor and beyond. Good-night, Narcissa."

He knew exactly what she had meant, that she wanted him to walk with her, but he had no interest in walking with her anyway, or in listening to the sound of her holier-than-thou prattling as they did so. Before she could stammer a disbelieving word, he had walked off and left her alone and infuriated in the corridor to inspect the castle before heading off to bed.

Thoughts of Alice accompanied him through the hallways. She carried him so that his footsteps were lighter than air, and now that he had spent time with her while she was away from her friends, and she hadn't laughed at him. . . well maybe now he might find the confidence he needed to ask her to Hogsmeade with him sometime. Maybe he would ask her after the holiday break. He imagined this over and over in his mind, even as he burrowed down into the soft comfort of his pillow, and when he closed his eyes, he dreamed of her.


	5. I'm Still Here

**Chapter Four: I'm Still Here**

_With trembling hand she reached over and gave him the petals from one of the flowers that he'd brought her. The boy was reluctant, and looked to his grandmother for approval, but the older woman wasn't paying attention. She was chatting with one of the healer's on duty. "Thank you," he whispered._

_"Neville, keep close. Over here," the old woman scolded. "I don't want you wandering off, you hear me?"_

_The small boy blinked, his round blue eyes watering with confusion and dread. He hated coming here with her. He hated that she held him back when all he wanted to do was crawl up into his mother's lap and cuddle close to her, even if she didn't know him. "Yes, Gran," he looked quietly away from her scrutinizing stare._

_"Why don't you go on and tell them your news now, Neville?" she said, shoving him forward so that he stood directly before the strange and hideous beings he had known all his life to be his parents. It confused him sometimes; after all he was just a child and to try and fathom what had happened, what horrible thing had happened to take away the happy people in the picture on his bedside table was too much for his child's brain to process._

_He swallowed, looking between his parents, first his mum and then his dad, and neither one of them was even paying attention, or so it seemed. "Um. . . Mum," he began slowly. The trembling in his voice made him sound small, nearly invisible. "Dad," he went. "I got my letter today."_

_"Do you hear that Frank?" Mrs. Longbottom clapped the boy on the back. Gran had never been more proud of him. In fact, in all his life, Neville couldn't remember ever hearing Gran praise him, but ever since he'd gotten his letter from Hogwarts she'd been proudly announcing his brilliance for all to hear. Her grandson, her little Neville, Frank's boy. . ._

_"I'm going to go to Hogwarts." He explained carefully, as though that explanation would make all the difference in whether or not his parents understood. "I'm to be a real wizard, Dad. Just like you." Neville had spent all of his life in the shadow of his father's achievements, which seemed so unbelievable whenever he was in the man's presence. That man, the one who never had to leave his pajamas, who could barely form a word, let alone one that made sense._

_"He'll make you proud, Frank, won't you, Neville?" Gran's hand was like a claw digging into his shoulder. Maybe she didn't realize how much pressure she was putting on him, how much she was hurting him, and then his father looked up at him. "He'll do you and Alice both justice."_

_For a moment Frank's eyes were clear, their hazel-grey tones ringing true with recognition. Frank opened his mouth several times to speak, and the strangled, clicking sound in his throat made the young boy tremble with fear and anticipation. It was as if he were choking, Neville thought, choking on his inability to speak. Neville held his father's stare as long as he could, his insides quivering in fear and loathing, and when he thought it was hopeless, the man finally managed to croak the word, "Ch-ch-Train."_

_Gran's hand loosened on Neville's shoulder, and looked down at the timepiece she wore on her wrist. In a disbelieving tone, she said, "That's right, Frank. The train's due the roll by any minute."_

_He said it again and again. Train, Train, Train, and Neville seemed to understand. It was as though at long last the communication breach had been bridged. He knew his father wasn't talking about the train schedule outside. He was remembering. . . he was remembering his time on the Hogwart's express. . . _

"Easy there, Longbottom!" Merry threw down his cards with a clever grin. "Take a load off, have a seat. Allow us to entertain you with a well-plotted game of exploding snap."

"Sorry, boys. I can't do that," Frank insisted, hovering in the doorway. "I've got to make my rounds."

"He's got to make his rounds," Ted mimicked in a singsong voice. "Come on, Frank old boy, sit down and relax a minute. You've already made rounds twice. You've got a whole three hour train ride left to make sure the circus doesn't break out into the aisles. Surely you can allow yourself the leisure of one game."

Geoff looked up, a knowing smile lifting the corners of his mouth, "He's not about making the rounds. He's off looking for Alice."

"I should have known," Ted rolled his eyes.

"For your information," Frank began. "I happen to know exactly where Miss Delaney is, thank you very much."

"So, did you talk to her, then?"

It was typical here for Frank's face to flush scarlet, burning nearly purple at the tips of his ears, which stuck out of his winter cap no matter how many times he tried to tuck them in. "Of course not."

"What do you mean of course not?" Merry barked. "You've been talking to her all week, Longbottom, now that McGonagall's roped you into tutoring her fifth years. What makes saying hello on the train different than talking to her while you're tutoring her?"

Frank shrugged, "I don't know," he muttered. The tips of his ears still felt hot, and his cheeks burned all the way up to his temples.

"She's just a girl, Frank," Geoff reminded him casually. "And a girl you like no less. I'd be itching for every opportunity to talk to Marsha O'Reilly if I thought she'd even give me a second look."

"Marsha O'Reilly?" the other three boys raised the chorus of their voices together.

Frank found himself laughing, happy to be out of the spotlight, "She's way out of your league, Diggory."

"And she's a Ravenclaw." Merry added.

Geoff looked up, his face twisted into a witty scowl, "Out of my league, is she? We'll see about that. I'll make a bet with you that I can get her to kiss me before the train reaches Kings Cross."

"You're on," Frank held out his hand to shake on it, but Geoff shook his hand.

"Not so fast," he said. "You haven't even heard the stipulations."

Frank could feel his stomach growing heavy now; he swallowed. "All right, let's have 'em then."

"If I can get Marsha O'Reilly to willingly kiss me, you have to kiss Alice."

That was easy, almost too easy. Marsh O'Reilly wouldn't kiss Geoff Diggory if he was the last boy on the train and her life depended on it. Confident that he would never have to answer to that bet, Frank kept his hand out and said, "All right then. You're on."

Merry and Ted were both laughing, and one of them said, "You're in for it now, Longbottom."

"Prepare to pucker up," the other added.

"Please," Frank laughed. "He'll never get her to kiss him willingly. He'd have to use magic for sure."

Geoff was now standing and perched on the edge of the compartment door, ready to step out into the aisle. The look in his eye made Frank feel nervous all of the sudden. Geoff slid the door open and the melee from the other cars could now be heard, the joyous camaraderie and pre-holiday excitement. He heard ripples of laughter coiling in from all sides. "I'll be back, and you'll be sorry, Frankie." He closed the door again, closing off the madhouse of sound from the other compartments all along the train.

"We'll see about that," Frank replied, but on the inside he wasn't so sure that Geoff wasn't right. It suddenly occurred to him now that Geoff seemed more worried about Frank getting together with Alice than Frank was. Did he know something Frank didn't? "Oy," he pulled the compartment door open and stepped out into the walkway. "What are you up to Geoff? Geoff?" Geoff kept walking, only glancing back once at his friend with a coy smugness. "Diggory!" Geoff slipped onto the next car and closed the door behind him and Frank swallowed.

"Oh, hello, Frank," Lily Evans had come out of the compartment just to the left of the one Frank and his friends were sharing. "I thought I heard you out here."

"Hullo, Lily," he smiled.

"Do you need any help making rounds? I could use a bit of a break from the giggling."

"Sure," he laughed awkwardly. Just over Lily's shoulder he could see Alice. She had thrown her head back in laughter at whatever the girl across from her had been talking about. Alice. Her laughter was the sweetest sound that Frank had ever heard, rich and sweet, like undulating waves of chocolate. He'd give anything if she just noticed him there and said hello, he thought. He'd do anything to meet her eyes, but when Lily cleared her throat, an obvious attempt to draw his attention back to her, he nodded again. "I'd love some company on my rounds."

Lily closed the compartment door and stepped out into the aisle. She and Frank started walking, Lily about a step and a half behind him as they did. They walked for quite a few cars in silence, checking in through the small portals to make sure the inhabitants of each car weren't fighting or getting too rowdy. As they came upon the car that hosted James Potter and his friends, Lily refused to look in, but stood back behind Frank's shoulder to avoid being noticed by the four boys inside. For the most part they were caught up in some game of poker where they bartered candies and chocolate frog cards instead of money.

As they stepped away from the car, Lily came closer to him, so that they were now almost side by side walking, "Frank, might I ask you a personal question?"

His stomach twitched nervously, "Why sure, Lily, I suppose you could."

She was silent for a minute, long enough to pass by a car that the door had just opened up to. Once she was sure they were less likely to be overheard she asked in a quiet voice, "How do you feel about Alice Delaney?"

Frank imagined that had he been drinking something, say pumpkin juice or tea, it would have sprayed against the window beside them with his utter disbelief at the bold manner in which she'd outed her query. He coughed, guffawed and looked down at the girl beside him with the rich, red hair and soft dusting of freckles across the bridge of her nose. Her green eyes were like rich fields of grass in a summer that had seen just enough rain, and her smile was sweet—just endearing enough to smooth away the wrinkles of worry that his secret had been discovered.

He swallowed, "Alice Delaney? She's a very nice girl," he nodded.

"Yes, she is very nice," Lily replied. "I think she really respects you, and you've helped her out a great deal this last week with her Transfigurations."

"Really?" he swallowed again. He reached up and loosened the collar of his shirt, realizing just how hot it was getting in the aisle. "I was glad to have the opportunity to help her."

"She's really shy, you know," Lily said, as if this had anything to do with the girls knack, or lack thereof in Alice's case, for transfigurations. "She has a hard time talking with boys, but I think she's really opened herself up to you."

"Really?" He had tried desperately to disguise the joy in his voice.

"Yes," Lily nodded. "I think she likes you very much."

"Really?" Frank knew he had probably filled his quota on the use of the word really, but for the first time ever he was openly discussing Alice with someone else that actually knew her and it felt so unreal. It wasn't like daydreaming Alice with Geoff or the twins around. Lily actually knew Alice. She talked to Alice every day, she roomed with the girl in the dormitory and they had lunch and classes together regularly.

"Yes," Lily laughed softly. "I think she does."

"Wow." What next escaped Frank would surprise him for years to come. The shy boy who had watched from afar as Alice grew into the beautiful young woman she'd become took a back seat for the moment, and he said, "I like her very much too."

"You do?" Lily gasped, sounding very pleased with herself. "That's wonderful, Frank. Maybe you could talk to her."

"Oh," he stammered, his confidence wavering. "I don't know, Lily. What would I say to her?"

"What about Happy Christmas?" she suggested. "Or you could ask her if her family has any plans for the holiday? Maybe you could ask her to the next Hogsmeade weekend?"

"Oh," he said again. "Oh, I don't know."

"Come on, Frank. If you like her and she likes you. . ." she said. "You said you liked her."

"Well, I do," he replied sheepishly. It seemed funny, but his face wasn't burning with near as much nervousness as it had when Geoff had been betting him he could kiss Marsha O'Reilly.

"Then talk to her, Frank. Let her know you like her."

"Lily," he moaned hopelessly. "I don't. . ." he started. "I don't think I can."

"Frank, I'll tell you a secret, but you have to promise me you'll never tell." They had reached the last car on the train, and inside were a group of first years playing marbles. The train ricketed and rocked back and forth, from side to side with a steady sound that calmed the nervousness he felt just discussing Alice with someone else who knew her. It was crazy. What if Lily told the other girl? What if his secret were unleashed and the whole world found out? What if. . . what if the secret never got out and he graduated Hogwarts without ever telling Alice Delaney how he felt? Which fate were worse, his mind rationalized?

"All right," he said. He kept swallowing, even though his mouth and throat were so dry that the very act felt like he'd drunk a cup of sand.

"Gideon Prewett asked Alice to the Valentine ball already," she said.

"He what?" he astounded. "The Valentine ball is almost two months away!"

"I know," she shrugged nonchalantly. "He is a sixth year prefect though, so he knew all the details. He asked her last week. Well, he didn't ask her ask her, but he did bring it up, and he told her he would like very much to take her."

"Is that right?"

Lily nodded.

"And what did she. . . uh. . . er what did she say?"

"She told him she had already been asked by someone else."

"She did?"

Again, Lily nodded. "I think she's waiting to see if you ask her because I know for a fact she hasn't been asked by anybody else."

"For real?"

"That's what I think," she said matter-of-factly. "I've known Alice since first year, Frank. She's always been a bit sweet on you."

"She has?"

"Oh yes," she nodded once more. "Maybe you could ask her to the ball."

"Yeah," he looked out the window at the flakes of snow whizzing by on the wind. "Yeah, maybe I could." He wasn't sure why, but knowing that Gideon Prewett was thinking about asking out Alice, his girl, his Alice, had set a fire under him unlike anything he'd ever felt. "I'll ask her as soon as we come back from holiday."

"Good," she smiled. It was a smile that hinted at her self-satisfaction, but Frank was so wrapped up in the idea of asking Alice to the Valentine Ball when they returned from holiday that he was sure he'd be able to think of nothing else.

"I should get back and find Geoff Diggory," he replied. "I have a feeling he's up to no good."

"All right. Thanks for letting me walk with you, Frank."

"Thank you," he smiled thoughtfully, "for your company."

Little did Frank know, as he walked away to find Geoff and call the bet off, Gideon Prewett stepped out of the car where the first years had been playing marbles. He and Lily Evans exchanged smug grins, shook hands, and went their separate ways. Much to Frank's relief, especially now that he had all but agreed to ask Alice to the Valentine Ball with him after the holiday, Geoff Diggory didn't succeed in securing a willing kiss from Marsha O'Reilly. Frank watched his friend paw after the girl, bumping through the crowd and asking her if she would at least just give him the promise of a Hogsmeade afternoon when they returned.

He stood in the aisle, smiling smugly at his small triumph.

"Excuse me," a small voice stumbled down the aisle, her baggage banging every wall and doorway as she passed through. "Sorry, excuse me. Oops."

"Hi, Alice," he said, battling against the ache of nervousness in his throat. "Can I help you with your bag?"

Alice looked up at him, her big, blue eyes wide with joyful disbelief. "Hello, Frank," she said softly. A third year brushed by, and she stumbled clumsily into the wall. She seemed so delicate, he thought, as though at any minute the wind would blow and spirit her away.

He reached over and took the awkward bag from her hands, "Here," he smiled. "Let me help you with your luggage."

"Oh, all right," she gave a slow, but certain smile. "All right, thank you very much, Frank."

He blushed, the willing victim of her worldly praise, "You're welcome, Alice." He took a hold of her bag and gestured for her to go in front of him. "Ladies first," he said, and then he followed behind her with his heart thumping like a jackrabbit in his chest.


	6. Back to the Harbor

**Chapter Five: Back to the Harbour **

_ . . .and the wall won't come down  
till they're no longer afraid of themselves  
and if you don't believe me ask the elves  
and then I can come down to the harbour  
down to the harbour  
and then I will fill the ocean back up with my tears  
I still have a couple more years  
and then I can come back to the harbour. . . _

_Waits/Brennan-Tom Waits, Alice(c) _

All through winter holiday Frank daydreamed about Alice. While washing the dishes after dinner every night for his mum, he would daydream out the window—little thoughts mostly, Alice thoughts. He had memorized her smile, and of course then there were her eyes, which reminded him most of the cerulean winter sky just before the sun set. He felt like he could get lost in the safety of her meadow-grass hair, a place he'd love to hide, and as he thought of this, he imagined that her hair smelled sweet, like berries. Full of little sighs at all times, this last thought about the berries brought another on, and he leaned against the sink with his hands soaking carelessly in the dishwater.

He couldn't believe that he had agreed to ask Alice to the Valentine ball, but the very thought of Gideon Prewett taking her made his skin crawl. Gideon Prewett. . . didn't he have enough of the girls fawning after him? Why did he need Frank's girl too? Why did he need Alice? Of course, it hadn't occurred to Frank that Alice wasn't really his girl. He thought of her that way with fondness, even though he'd barely shown her that he liked her. Alice. . . Alice. . . Alice. . .

"Frank," the shrill cut of her voice stole into his daydream like a blade. "Are you done with those dishes yet?"

"Yes, Mum," he drained the water from the sink and wiped his hands on the towel. "Only just."

"Good," She said. "I want you to go out and break up the ice on the front walk. Your Uncle Algie and Aunt Enid will be coming in the morning and I don't want either of them to slip and break their neck, except maybe your Aunt Enid, but that's beside the point."

Frank chuckled, "All right, Mum." His mother had never gotten on with his Aunt Enid. In his earliest memories, in the foggy time when his father had still be alive, Frank could still remember Aunt Enid and his mum bickering like old cows through the holiday meal, and over the years very little had changed. The number of family members around the table may have lessened, but Mum and Auntie Enid still went at it every holiday. He was sure that tomorrow morning would be no different than last Christmas, and the familiarity and dependability of it made him smile. "I'll get right on it for you."

"Good," she said once more.

She hmphed at her son several times from the window. He had taken more than an hour to do what most assuredly should have been a twenty minute job. Several times she'd opned up the door only to ask, "Aren't you finished yet, Frank?"

"Almost, Mum," he would reply, but Imogene knew he wasn't working at it very hard. He was daydreaming, and had been doing so often of late.

When he at last came inside, dazed from the cold, he kissed his mother on the cheek and sauntered dreamily up the stairs to his bedroom. Imogene scowled, looking out the door into the night only to find that while he had broken up the ice rather well, he'd failed completely in sweeping it away. "Blasted boy!" She grumbled. A sigh escaped her, but she said nothing to him as she pulled into her overcoat and boots to go out and clear it away herself. "Can't count on him to do anything right," she muttered under her breath. "Always got his head in some cloud or another. Probably thinking about some girl at school, or several girls at school. . ."

The thought clenched her heart like a cruel hand. Her Frank, her boy, in love with some girl? Could it be? All the signs were there: vacant expression, unnecessary dreamy sighs, distant replies he certainly hadn't put much thought into. "Awe damn, Frank," she muttered, looking up at the light in his window.

She was no fool. That boy was in love and he had it bad.

Despite her rather predatory and prudish appearance, Imogene Louise Dillinger Longbottom had once been a young woman, and what was worse was that she had once been a young woman very much in love. The very thought of it spurned a violent reaction from her and her broom swept madly at the chunks of ice. Love… what good was it? Love. . .what a joke! Love. . .and yet, while she pushed the ice angrily around with her broom an affectionate memory of it swept through her, as if the ghost of her long dead husband had come to warm her heart again.

Imogene had been sixteen when she first met Neville Henry Longbottom III, who was known by all who loved him as "Hank". Hank was four years older than she was and already employed as a clerk in the Muggle Affairs office at the Ministry of Magic. Before their first month of courting had waned, Imogene was head-over-heels, and Hank was already on his knees asking her to marry him. Of course she'd have to finish school, even if she was only to become a house-witch and mother, and Hank agreed. His wife would be well educated, capable of joining any workforce, any time she pleased.

All through her remaining year and a half of school, he continued to court her, and the July following her graduation they were married.

Both Imogene and Hank had come from very small families in which they were only children, and in the beginning they agreed that having a large family was the only way to quell that strange loneliness an only child experienced all his life. Within two months of their nuptials, Imogene was pregnant with their first child, a boy who would be born almost six weeks early. At first he was frail and weak, and both worried that Algerard wouldn't live to see his first birthday, but the months passed slowly, and Algie grew strong. It was more than two years before Imogene felt the quickening of life in her womb again, and nine months later there was Frank.

Frank had been everything his brother was not. While Algie had been small and frail, and from time to time sickly, the boy was both adventurous and headstrong. Frank, on the other hand, had weighed more than ten pounds at birth, and grew as fast as a patch of Dragon's Breath in spring. Healthy and strong, where his older brother was not, Frank seemed to lack the sense of adventure his brother showed, and as the two boys grew together, Imogene and Hank were happy to see how well the two boys balanced one another.

Imogene and Hank were happy. . . those were the key words, and as she thought them it caused her heart to ache with sadness. She had never expected her life to go so well. She was a realist before she met Hank, never a dreamer, but something about their happiness had dulled down her pessimistic nature and Imogene often found herself feeling foolishly secure. Happy, so happy that a false sense of security wrapped itself around her like a blanket and when she lost Hank she nearly died herself from devastation and disbelief. It wasn't supposed to go that way. She wasn't supposed to be alone.

She'd slumped into a miserable rut after that, refusing to love her sons the way she had before their father died, because if she loved them too much she might lose them. . .and then Algie. . . She couldn't even say the words in her mind without it making her feel weak.

Imogene could feel the cold of her tears swelling at the corners of her eyes, and for a moment the wall she'd built around herself felt soft and vulnerable. She reached with gloved hands and dabbed the tears away before they could fall.

After Algie had died, she'd promised herself that she would love Frank from a distance. She would take care of him and see to his needs. He would have the best education, the best life she could give him, but she had to keep herself from loving him out loud because then she wouldn't lose him. . . but sometimes it hurt to watch him growing so far away from her. It hurt that he didn't talk to her, didn't tell her his joys, fears and secrets. She had no idea what plans he had for the future, other than he'd do whatever she wanted. But more than any of those things it hurt to see her son in love when the greatest part of her wanted to run into the house and warn him away from feeling it. Could she deny him happiness? Even if it was fleeting and painful, could she deny him the joy she'd once known with his father?

No. She could not.

She swept the ice into the garden and perched on the end of her broom. She gazed up at the light in the window of her only living child's room once more and wondered about the girl who'd caught his fancy. Was she lovely? Was she sweet? Had he even spoken to her yet? Would they marry one day and have a family of their own, and when they did, would they invite her to be a part of it, even though she'd been so cold and distant? She swallowed the aching lump that had formed in her throat and blinked furiously at her tears.

For a moment, she felt warm once again, and the familiarity of her husband's spirit seemed to soar through her from beyond the veil. It was a subtle reminder that he was always with her. . . that he was waiting for her on the opposite shore, and one day she too would cross the River Styx into the other world to be with him forever. Until that day, however, she had Frank to take care of, and even though she'd never show it anywhere else, a twitch of gladness for that fact danced at the corner of her mouth. She had Frank to take care of, and one day he would take care of her.


	7. I’ll Always Pretend You’re Mine

**Chapter Six: I'll Always Pretend You're Mine**

_So tell me that you will wait for me  
Hold me in your arms  
I promise we never will part  
I'll never sail back to the time  
But I'll always pretend you're mine. . . _

(Fish and Bird-Waits & Brennan © 1992: Alice)

Imogene watched Kings Cross station like a hawk, as the colorful winter garb of children flittered all around her. She was looking for someone, for some kind of sign, actually. She was waiting for a hint of the young woman who had stolen her son's heart. So far, she had seen no sign of this girl, but he was keeping a close and watchful eye on both Frank and his reactions.

"Have you got your new broomstick, Frank?" She glanced sidelong at her son, still curiously gauging his every movement. Since they had left the house he had been acting a complete dunderhead, not watching where he was going, not paying attention a single word she said. "Frank!" She nudged him in the ribcage with her elbow.

"Yes, Ma'am," he gulped and snapped back to the moment.

"I said have you got your new broomstick?"

"Oh," a sheepish grin broadened the span of his face as he peered over at her. "Yes, Mum, I've got it." She watched his scattered attention try to roam away once more.

"What about your extra socks?"

"Yes, Mum, I've got them," he sounded slightly annoyed that time as he fidgeted and stretched his long neck to look up over the crowd. "And I've got my extra ink, and the new quills Auntie E got me for Christmas."

Was he getting cheek with her? "And what about your rememberall?" She felt a certain degree of satisfaction warm over her as she watched the color rush to his face, much the way color rushed into the rememberall when signaling that it's owner had forgotten something.

"I'm sorry, Mum," he looked down at her with watery eyes. "I forgot it."

"You boob!" She whacked him on the arm with her handbag.

"Ow!"

"Well how are you supposed to remember anything without your rememberall?"

"I seemed to be doing all right with everything but that stupid ball," he muttered so lowly she barely heard him.

His utterance earned him another whack of the bag, "You mind yourself, young man. You may be taller than me, and you may outweigh me by more than a hundred pounds, but I'm still your mother!"

"Yes, Mum," how easily his shamefaced grin returned. "I'm sorry." That grin brightened her mood. He was a good boy, she really shouldn't complain. "I guess I had too much else on my mind. Could you send it along in a package?"

She let loose a sigh of mock disgruntlement, as though this request were the most inconvenient thing he could have asked of her. "Of course I will." She felt strangely smug and satisfied. "I suppose I'd have to send along your head were it not already attached to your shoulders."

"Yes," he nodded. "I do suppose you would, Mother." Here he leaned down and kissed the woman affectionately on her check. "Whatever would I do without you to look after me?"

It was Imogene's turn to blush, for no matter how aptly she did try to distance herself from her son and her emotions, Frank Longbottom, like his father before him, was a bonafide sweetheart. He lived to please her, would do anything to make her happy, and while she found herself almost playfully scowling, under the surface she was glowing.

When the train whistle sounded its first announcement that they were boarding, she followed behind him and stepped back to watch as his friends began to pass by asking after his holiday. Had he gotten any good owls? What kind of gifts had he made off with. There were those twins, Ted and Merry, she recognized them right away, and then there was that loud-mouthed Diggory boy that was always trying to drag Frank into trouble.

"'Ello Mrs. Longbottom," the twins chimed simultaneously.

She gave a curt not, not being able to help the snide sneer with which she regarded the Diggory fellow. "Boys."

Of course, Geoff couldn't just say hello. He had to make a big production, to ensure a lasting impression, "Did you have a nice Christmas, Mrs. Longbottom."

Imogene narrowed her eyes like a predatory bird, "I did," she nodded. Here she turned her attention away from Geoffrey and back to her son, "You mind the rules this term, Frank."

"Always do, Mum."

"And set a good example for those younger students."

"I will, Mum," he suffered her without so much as a grimace.

"You _are_ Head Boy." She always felt the need to remind him of that responsibility. All of her letters ended with similar words.

Frank had come to believe that these reminders were his mother's way of telling him she was proud of him. She wasn't sure how else to say it without coming across too soft. "I will do my best to make you proud, Mum." The train whistle sounded again and his charming smile lit his face. "All right then, that's me."

The other boys had already wandered off toward the train. Obviously their parents had just dropped them and left, which reinforced Imogene's assumption that they ere unruly and uncared for—meaning, not the kinds of people she wanted her son to associate with because they had very little regard for the rules. However, bed remark about her son's heathen friends, two even more unruly boys came barreling through the station. The first boy was a shaggy looking thing with an extraordinarily big mouth, while the boy with the glasses chasing after had the most mussed black hair she'd ever seen. The second boy had ploughed the first into Frank, who in turn stumbled and in the melee managed to stomp his own mother's toes.

Imogene let out a startled cry.

"I'm sorry, Mum," he righted and steadied her, looking over her before looking into her sharp face to make certain she wasn't hurt.

"I'm fine," she pulled away from his attention stubbornly.

"Then I need to say goodbye. I've just discovered a couple of Gryffindors who appear to be bent on starting the new term off with detention." He swooped in and quickly kissed her cheek. "Take care, Mother."

Frank had all but raced off before his mother had been given a chance to say goodbye, and as he disappeared into the crowds of families, she had to step up on her tiptoes to get a glimpse of where he went. She was hoping to catch him meeting up with his young lady so that she might at least get a good look at her, and just when she was about to give up a bouncy red-headed girl sidled came rushing toward him. . .

"Welcome back, Frank," Lily greeted cheerfully.

"Hello, Lily," and behind her was Remus Lupin. "Remus," he nodded.

"Frank," Remus returned the gesture.

"Could we have a moment?" Lily glanced over at Remus. "I just need to ask Frank something about the uh. . . Valentine's ball."

"Oh, certainly," Remus replied. "I'll see you on the train, Lil." He stepped up onto the train, leaving Frank and Lily virtually alone among the shifting crowd.

For the moment, Frank had completely forgotten that he was on a hunt for Sirius Black and James Potter to ream them out for acting out at the train station and knocking into his mother. He looked down at the pretty, young lady in front of him, and for a moment he was caught in the charm of her serious, rich green eyes. "Is something wrong, Lily?"

"Oh, no," she shook her head, her sweet smile adding a hint of mischief to those clever eyes. "I just wondered if well… have you given thought anymore to what we talked about before holiday?"

"About the ball, you mean?" Had he given any thought to it? Dear Merlin, it was all he'd thought about all holiday! Alice in Hogsmeade, Alice on his arm, Alice…Alice…Alice.

"Well, yeah, the ball, but all of it? Have you thought about asking her to Hogsmeade? There's a weekend coming up? I bet she'd be delighted if you took her."

"I don't know," he looked away from her. "I don't know what to say to her. What if I ask her and she says no?"

"She won't."

"What if she does, though?"

Lily was grinning again, an infectious sort of smile that reached out to grab at him, "She won't! Trust me."

"So should I ask her to Hogsmeade first, and then ask her to the ball, or to the ball first, and then Hogsmeade?" A frustrated wrinkle creased his brow. "Honestly Lily… I'm sorry. I'm really no good at this sort of thing. She'll think I'm an idiot. Maybe it would be better to let her go with Fabian."

"Gideon," she corrected.

"Whatever."

"No, Frank, don't give up," she reached out to touch his arm with familiarity and compassion. "I know you're both just a little bit shy, but I promise you if you ask her, she will say yes. She adores you, Frank."

"She does?"

"Look," she tugged his sleeve so that they were a little further from the crowd, and from a distance it probably looked as though the two of them were quite cozy with one another. Lily leaned in close, straining on the tips of her toes to reach his ear. "She wrote to me over holiday, Frank. She told me that you helped her with her bags, and she was so excited about it. Ask her out, won't you?"

He stepped back to look into her face, completely dumbfounded by this news. "She wrote to you about me?" The very concept of it made him feel weird and tingly inside. Alice Delaney was thinking about him outside of school? Taking that just one step further, she was writing letters about him. "She wrote you a letter about me?"

Lily tilted her head, nodding matter-of-factly, "She did indeed."

"Did she say anything else?" He tried.

"Can't tell you," she teased, smacking at his arm playfully. "Girl's stuff, top secret. I just wanted you to know though. I don't want you to walk away from this, Frank. I have a feeling."

"A feeling?" he crossed his arms over his chest. "What do you mean?"

"About you and Alice," she shrugged. "I just have a feeling that the two of you were meant to be, so give it a shot, won't you." He regarded her skeptically. What was she on about, feelings… "For me?" she added, combining her plea with the innocent blinking of her long lashes.

Frank twisted his mouth curiously. He could clearly see that Lily Evans was never going to let him off easy, no matter how he tried to squirm out of it. "All right, I'll ask her to Hogsmeade."

"Today?"

Inwardly, he shrieked that word, Today! Surely, she couldn't be serious, but his voice answered without a chance for his mind to think on it, "Today." He agreed.

"On the train," she suggested. "We'll be in the car behind yours. I'm going to leave her alone at say a quarter 'til three, then you pop on over and ask her, all right?"

"You've got this all planned out, then, don't you?" He regarded her now, feeling that he'd been fully duped.

Lily was grinning again, her beautiful eyes shining with mischief, "I do." She assured him. She reached over and patted his forearm once more, "And I know you won't let me down, Frank. Good luck."

She walked away then, and he couldn't help but feeling slightly nervous standing there alone. What had he agreed to? It had finally come down to the wire. He was going to have to ask Alice out. Thanks to Lily, there was simply no way around it now. He drew in a shaky breath, shook his head and turned back to the train.

It was at this moment that he caught sight of her, of his Alice, and the flowing beauty of her golden had hair caught in the wind as she leaned up and kissed her father on the cheek. She was smiling beautifully, promising him that she would behave, she would do well, she would make him proud. Frank stood the voyeur, on the outside looking in, as she said goodbye to the man, and then quickly boarded the train.

Imogene had been watching this entire display. In the beginning she had thought that the young girl with fiery hair that had drug her son off for a private conversation had been the object of his fantasies, but he was too calm with her. She imagined that in the presence of the girl who had tied his thoughts in knots he would be bumbling, nervous, stammering, redfaced. Then the girl had sauntered off, and there Imogene had caught her son stopping to watch another from a distance. Following his gaze to a young girl saying goodbye to her father, she couldn't help but allow the small smile of approval that had dawned on her mouth.

The girl was absolutely breathtaking in the most demure fashion. She could only hope her nitwit son didn't blow it by playing the coy game with her for too long.

A/N: For those of you who have asked about the Longbottom family dynamics or about Frank's Mum's name, canon named her Augusta, but not until long after I wrote this story. Thanks for all of the reviews and support. I'm so pleased that everyone is enjoying the story.   



	8. Behind Every Window

**Chapter Seven: Behind Every Window**

_Behind every window  
behind every door  
the apple is gone,  
but there's always the core.  
The seeds will sprout up  
right through the floor. . ._  
(Copyright Waits/Brennan-Alice: Reeperbahn)

Frank's first order of business once the train pulled away from King's Cross station was to divide the rounds with Narcissa so that he would be free at quarter 'til three. Unfortunately, Frank knew that getting Narcissa to do what he wanted her to do wasn't exactly going to be easy. If she even suspected that he had a plan or obligation she would do everything in her power to thwart his plans.

The soothing movement of the train ricketing forward carried his footsteps toward the Head's car, where the prefects had already gathered around their Head Girl and were accepting the distribution of responsibilities she doled out without question. Narcissa sneered haughtily over her shoulder at the sound of the door sliding open and a witty smile lit upon her face, "Ah, there he is," she noted. "So nice of you to finally take a moment to join us, Longbottom. I was beginning to think the Head Boy needn't even make an appearance."

Frank stifled a snigger when behind Narcissa's back Lily Evans made googly eyes and stuck out her tongue. Remus Lupin nudged her, grinning, and Lily stopped just in time for Narcissa to turn around again, but Bellatrix Black had seen the entire thing and she was not amused. He watched the younger Black sister's eye twitch with a slice of resentment, her bitter scowl increasing the malice in her horrible gaze. Frank swallowed, and hoped he wouldn't have to battle the Black sisters, but strangely enough Bellatrix kept her mouth shut, and her sister went on plotting and handing out schedules.

"Now, where was I? Oh, yes, Evans, you and Tarquin patrol the first half of the train between now and two, Lupin and Samhalia the second half from now 'til two. You," she pointed to the Hufflepuff prefects, "You take the second half of the patrol in the first leg of the train, and Bella and Rabastan will do the other half. Frank, you take senior patrol between now and two-thirty and I'll pick up the second half."

"Is there no discussing it, or is it all about what's convenient for you, Narcissa?" He rolled his eyes, but on the inside he was quite pleased with the way things were turning out. He might not have to manipulate her at all, he realized. However, just for good measure, he pulled his upper lip into a derisive sneer that mirrored her own scorn almost perfectly.

Narcissa was astounded that he would even question her. "Yes, it is. Have you got a problem with it, Longbottom?" She didn't even give him a chance to answer. "No? Good, I didn't think you would. Now if anyone needs me between now and two-thirty, I'll be in the compartment three doors away with my sister and our friends."

The three Slytherin house members were the first to file out of the car, followed by the others, but Lily lingered momentarily just to mutter, "Don't forget, two—"

"Two-forty-five, Lily," he smiled slowly. "I won't forget."

"Good," she nodded. "I'll see you on rounds."

He wasn't sure why but her clever wink and mischievous smile were enough to make the nervous rumble in his stomach triple its intensity. Alone in the car, he stood for a moment trying to gather himself together, and then he remembered Sirius Black and James Potter's grave disrespect toward his mother. With a smug grin, Frank decided that this was the perfect place to start distracting himself from what was meant to take place at a quarter 'til three.

Frank combed the car on his patrol looking for the infamous, Gryffindor duo. Of course, he didn't look for them as hard as he probably should have, but found himself stopping to chat with students here and there, welcoming them all back from the winter holiday and answering questions they had about the next Quidditch match and transfigurations assignments gone wrong. He stopped and chattered with Ted, Merry and Geoff, who had resigned to losing him on the train ride, but in all of his chatter he never once mentioned to his closest friends what he was meant to ask Alice that afternoon. For some reason he felt that Geoff would find some way to taint it, but mostly he knew that the mere idea of talking about made him so nervous he feared he wouldn't go through with it.

He continually worried that if he told his friends what he was meant to do, it would all come undone before it had even begun. Already he was more nervous about asking Alice to accompany him to the Valentine's Ball the following month than he had ever been about anything as long as he could remember. Sure, it was easy for Lily Evans to say he had it in the bag, but what if Alice said no?

He had to pull himself together and he knew it. Waffling back and forth the way he was wasn't going to get him anywhere, and he knew that too. He was a Gryffindor for pity's sake. Need he continually remind himself of that? Weren't all great Gryffindors in history known for their bravery and valor? What was so brave and valorous about cowering away from a pretty girl? He cursed himself inwardly. Bloody hell. It was downright ridiculous the way he feared speaking to her.

"You've gone all funny on me, Frank," Geoff noted, nudging the young man back to the moment.

"Sorry," he smiled slowly. "I was just thinking."

"About what?"

"About finishing my rounds before the Ice Princess finds me here slacking off and reports to Dumbledore that I haven't been taking care of my duties." He sighed. "I'll catch up with you blokes later."

They trio razzed him a little about the tight chain the head girl seemed to have around not only him, but everyone she came in contact with. Several very impolite words were used to describe her craving and necessity for control, but Frank would hear no more about it. He slipped away from the car and left them to their banter, promising to catch up with them all again later. Just outside the car, he stopped to look down at his timepiece. Time. . . it was moving so slowly. Barely and hour had ticked by since they'd left Kings Cross Station, and now he had another hour to go before he had to meet with Alice.

He wasn't sure if that hour was a good thing, a necessary buffer zone between him and the future in which he could linger unscathed and unrejected. Or perhaps that final hour was a horrendously long torment, a slot of time in which he would contemplate the outcome of that one simple question until his mind felt raw and numb. He started to scold himself, but then the rush of scurrying footsteps came up behind, and shoved past him with absolute disregard.

"Mr. Potter," he regained his composure. "Mr. Black, stop right where you are."

The two boys stumbled into each other, coming to a comedic halt in which they argued over who had stepped on whom. It was like watching a slapstick routine, Frank thought, in which the two of them bartered to be the most ridiculous and outrageous, and as he watched them scamper to attention he couldn't decide which one was winning.

He began toward them, putting on the authoritarian air that came with being Head Boy. He rarely used it at all, but with kids like Potter and Black, it was almost always necessary, otherwise someone was bound to get hurt. In nine cases out of ten, when it came to instances involving Potter and Black, someone usually did get hurt. "Do you boys realize that this is a train we are on, and not some jungle gym designed for your playground entertainment, or has that fact completely slipped your minds?"

They looked first to each other with strange, twisted expressions, and then turned their attention to Frank. They both began talking at once, starting and stopping several times to give each other the right of way until finally a bold, "Will you shut up please," was necessary to get them quiet again. "Dear Merlin, you're like a circus exposition, the both of you. Running all about like first years, wreaking havoc and raising raucous. You do realize that I have less trouble with the first, second and third year students all put together than I have with both of you?"

"I'll take that as a compliment then, Frank, sir." Sirius Black flashed a dashing grin, guffawing like an oaf until Potter elbowed him in the ribs.

"You think I'm being funny, Mr. Black?" He took a step toward them.

"Er. . . uh. . . no, sir."

"Good, because I'm not. You do realize that in your hasty shenanigans outside the train today you toppled into and stepped on my mother."

A dramatic gulp from both boys followed. "Your. . . your mum, you say?" James swallowed again.

Frank gave one, curt nod, "My mum." He lifted his head.

"I—I had no idea," Sirius looked away.

"Of course not," Frank sighed. "And why should you have any idea, really? She had nothing to do with you? She was standing outside the train seeing off her son and minding her own business when she found herself the victim of your ridiculous game."

"Now I feel real bad," Sirius gulped.

"And right you should. You and Potter aren't the only people on this train, in this school you know, or the world even. There is an entire population of people out there that you are constantly affecting with your pranks and nonsense. It's high time the two of you settle down and start thinking outside yourselves."

James made a shifty glance in Sirius' direction, one which Frank did not take note of, for his attention was centered firmly on Sirius for the moment, "Ay, sir," Sirius agreed. "You're absolutely right. I apologize on behalf of both of us."

"Good."

"I apologize too," James agreed. "We're really sorry we rolled over your mum like that."

"I'll be sure to send her your apologies," he replied. "Right after you write them."

"W-what?" The two boys stammered in unison.

"That's right," Frank felt himself grinning at his ideal punishment. He hadn't even had to think about it. It had just come to him, and he was so proud of it. "I expect the both of you to sit down for the rest of this train ride and write a heart-felt apology letter to my mother."

"Just one?"

"Just one," he agreed, adding cleverly after a moment, "a piece. One letter a piece. It shouldn't be hard for the two of you. I'm always hearing how witty and clever you are from our professors. I suggest you take your time and make it really meaningful"

A willful groan escaped James Potter. "This is stupid."

"You could always write five letters in say detention? Every night next week with Professor Bleedenheart?"

"Detention?" Sirius sighed. "I've already got detention every night next week."

"And I've got Quidditch!" James added. "You wouldn't deny your own team one of it's key players. . ."

Frank ignored whatever it was that James Potter was about to say, assuring him with nothing more than a smile that he would in fact, take great delight in denying his own team one of it's players to make a point with those two clowns. "Since it seems the two of you are all booked up next week, I guess now would be the perfect time for you then. What's say you get to it? Let's find you a cozy car to sit down and relax in."

"We've already got a car," Sirius assured him.

"Then let me help you to it," he tucked the boys into their car and got them started on their letters, taking great delight in the snide grin Peter Pettigrew had bestowed upon them both just after muttering something about sitting still and being quiet. Frank liked Peter, simply because of the little group, he seemed to be the least troublesome. Frank backed toward the door, turning to James one last time to say, "And Mr. Potter, don't you dare ask Mr. Pettigrew to write your letter. I have my ways of finding out these things."

"Of course I wouldn't," James sneered, but Frank could clearly see that the very idea had been dancing playfully through his mind until he'd been thwarted.

"Good, I'll check back in with you boys this evening in the common room," his stern glare was enough reassurance that if they found themselves wandering through the train again, they might find a far worse punishment upon them than letter writing. The last thing he heard before sliding open the compartment door to slip away was Sirius Black writing aloud, "To the most lovely and esteemed Mrs. Longbottom. . ."

He was only in the hall for a couple of seconds when he heard, "Ooh, nice comeback, Mudblood."

Rabastan Lestrange and Bellatrix Black had Lily Evans cornered against the window.

"What's going on out here?" He stepped out into the aisle fully and took note of the shocked looks both of the Slytherin prefects were wearing. They hadn't been expecting him, that was for sure. "Ms. Black, you're not threatening Ms. Evans out here, are you?"

"So what if I am, Longarse?" She snarled over at the Head Boy, "What business is it of yours?"

"My right to keep the peace among students on this train back to the castle makes it my business, Bellatrix." He ran his tongue slowly over his bottom lip, daring her to talk back to him. "Now why don't you go on back to your sister's lap and have her brush your hair for you before I give you a detention Narcissa can't revoke."

Seething that he had brought Narcissa into his threat, Bella started at him through deadly blue eyes, but clever Rabastan grabbed her arm, holding her in place.

"No, it's all right, Frank," Lily spoke up. "Bella and were just discussing our holiday."

Frank glanced over at Lily curiously. He didn't buy it at all, but Frank nodded and watched as sneering Bellatrix and Rabastan slipped away. He had his eye on them now and would keep it there until they were safely back at the castle.

"Thanks," Lily smiled over at him once the other two were out of earshot.

"You're welcome," he nodded and glanced down at his watch. "Rounds up," he said. "Looks like I've just enough time to stop back at my car and then meet up with Alice."

"Looks like," she agreed. "I'll see you in a bit, then."

He nodded again, and then started away down the corridor.

"And Frank," she called over to him. He glanced back over her shoulder, her beautiful and innocent grin lighting up her whole face, "Good luck," she offered.

"Thanks."


	9. Barcarolle

**Chapter Eight: Barcarolle **

_A cloud lets go of the moon  
Her ribbons are all out of tune  
She is skating on the ice  
In a glass in the hands of a man  
That she kissed on a train  
And the children are all gone into town  
To get candy and we are alone in the house here  
And your eyes fall down on me_

And I belong only to you  
The water is filling my shoes  
In the wine of my heart there's a stone  
In a well made of bone  
That you bring to the pond  
And I'm here in your pocket  
Curled up in a dollar  
And the chain from your watch around my neck  
And I'll stay right here until it's time

The girls all knit in the shade  
Before the baby is made  
And the branches bend down  
To the ground here to swing on  
I'm lost in the blond summer grass  
And the train whistle blows  
And the carnival goes  
Till there's only the tickets and crows here  
And the grass will all grow back

And the branches spell 'Alice'  
And I belong only to you  
  
Tom Waits/Kathleen Brennan: Alice-Barcarolle

Frank passed his duties on to Narcissa, who begrudgingly accepted them, but only after trying to persuade him to do the other half as well. She promised him that she was make rounds of the castle by herself, but Frank knew her too well. Her promises were about as worthwhile as pile of salted sea slugs. With a strange sense of confidence, he shook his head and said, "Just do your job, Narcissa, or I'll report you to Dumbledore for slacking off on your duties as Head Girl."

The look on her face after that was priceless, just enough to carry him along the corridor with a smug smile. She hadn't come back at him at all because she'd been too flabbergasted that he'd stood up to her, and after all, he was Head Boy. He was just as important as she was. He deserved his time after fulfilling his duties. Even as he'd walked away he could hear her stopping and starting, trying to find some reason to call him back, and as he turned into the car he shared with his friends, he heard a long, solitary growling scream.

"Well that's done," he nodded once at Geoff.

Geoff looked up from the game of exploding snap he and Ted were playing, "What's that then?"

"I just told the ice-queen what for."

"You what?" Merry closed his book with a great bang.

"Narcissa Black, I just told her off," he replied. "And I finally managed to hit Black and Potter with a reasonable form of punishment they couldn't weasel their way out of."

"Whoa," Ted shook his head in disbelief. "You've had a long day. Why don't you take a load off?" He scooted over. "You can sit right here."

"Actually," he was about to say it aloud and he wasn't even sure why. "I have to go and see Alice Delaney."

"Alice Delaney?" All three of his companions managed in unison.

"Yes." Saying it aloud reinforced it. He was going to see Alice Delaney… and on purpose at that. He was seeking her out on his own, and when he did he was going to ask her to the Valentine's Ball.

"Whoa," Merry mimicked his twin's earlier sentiment. "You really are on a role today. What happened to you over hols, Frank?"

"Yeah?" Ted chimed in.

But Geoff, Geoff didn't say a word. He simply sat back against his seat and crossed his arms, a gleam of approval glistening in his gaze. Frank took note of that gleam, and felt himself grinning with confidence.

"Nothing happened," he shook his head. "I just think it's time I start taking a bit of control."

"Oh great," Merry sighed. "Now you'll be on a power trip of monumental proportions."

"We'll be lucky if we fit your fat head through the door from here on out," Ted added.

Frank rolled his eyes. "Please. I'm just taking control of my life, is all. And if that means not taking the crap anymore from spoiled little boys like Potter and Black, or even worse, Narcissa, then so be it. And part of taking control of my life means Alice. I've liked her so long. . ."

"Yes," Geoff finally spoke. "You've wasted an incredible amount of time on that one, Longbottom."

"Aye," he sighed with a long nod. "So I should be off then. I'm meant to meet with her at a quarter til."

"Good luck," the twins wished him simultaneously.

He nodded thanks, and was nearly out the door again when Geoff called out, "Oy, Frank, wait a minute." He had jumped up from his seat to follow. They both slipped through the door and into the hallway, balancing against the constant ricket of the train upon the tracks.

"What is it then, Geoff?" Frank eyed his friend suspiciously. "Come out to make a wager with me?"

"Nah," he shook his head. "Have you ever known me to be stupid enough to bet against a sure thing?"

"A sure thing?" This peaked his interest.

"Well yeah, a sure thing," he shook his head, a complimentary chuckle to follow. "You've been mooning after that girl almost as long as I can remember, and the eyes she makes at you. . ."

"She makes eyes at me?"

"Frank, I've been telling you that all along," he laughed again.

The nervous rumbling began to tickle at him from within again. He swallowed, suddenly faced with the prospect of being told, _Yes_. He hadn't thought about that all along, had he? He hadn't taken that into consideration all those time he was sick with daydreams about her. What would it be like if she said yes? The confidence began to waver, his heart was pounding once again. Suddenly it occurred to him that all along that was what he'd feared most. He was afraid that Alice would say yes, that she would be interested in him, and he would turn out to be quite dull.

"I can't do it," he shook his head, every last bit of his strength fading away.

"Bollocks!" Geoff closed the space between them and looked up into the face of his closest friend. "Longbottom, you're never going to know whatever it is you're searching for unless you take this risk. You're a Gryffindor, mate. We live for adventure."

"We do, don't we?" Frank smiled and looked away.

"We do, we do. Now look at me." Frank did as he was bid to do. "You're going to walk into that carriage and you're going to make small talk until you can't possibly stand it anymore, and then you're just going to ask her, all right?"

Frank swallowed and replied with a vague nod.

"All right?" Geoff prodded once again.

"All right, all right."

"Good." He patted his friend on the shoulder and smiled. "Now go on then. Off with you."

As though he were programmed, Frank started down the corridor, but he stopped halfway and looked back, "Geoff what if. . ."

"She'll say yes, Frank."

"But what if she doesn't?"

"She will," he sighed. "But you have to actually ask her first."

He nodded slow agreement, and then turned back around, toward the compartment behind theirs that Lily Evans was just then stepping out of. She smiled knowingly, and offered him a clever wink, and then she disappeared through the door into the next train car.

Frank approached the door and held a trembling hand out. He withdrew it into himself again, afraid to open the car, but through the window he could see Alice in the car, and she was thoughtfully watching out the window. There was a book open in her lap, but it was rested there on the index, and appeared as though she'd been holding it that way for quite some time.

Her hair was tied back in a simple bow at the nape of her neck, but loose tendrils fell in waving wisps here and there. He imagined that they framed her face that way. . . and the back of his throat felt dry. He tried to swallow, and wondered how on earth he was ever going to talk to her if that tickle in his throat didn't cease, much less ask her out. Perhaps he could wait for another time, he thought. Perhaps he could ask her tomorrow, but at the end of the corridor, just near the door to the cabin in front of that one he hear a low, guttural throat-clearing, and he looked back over his shoulder. Geoff nodded him forward, a mischievous grin tugging at the corner of his mouth, and when he looked in the direction Lily had gone he saw that she was also watching. . . waiting for him to make his move.

"Well," he muttered to himself. "That settles it." There was no where to go but in. He steadied the trembling of his hand and made a loose fist with which to knock softly on the door before turning the lever and sliding it to the side. She had retrieved her gaze from the passing landscape and appeared almost startled to see him standing there. "Hullo," he had to swallow several times before that word came out, and several more after so that he might add, "Alice. Hello."

Her smile was like the sun, bright, beautiful, and warm after a long cold winter, "Hi, Frank." She began to fumble with the book in her lap. "You just missed Lily, actually. She went to see if she could find Remus. He's supposed to be helping us with this project outline for spring term."

"Oh," he nodded slowly. "Yeah, I uh. . ." how did he say it? Would he look stupid? At least it came as a bit of comfort that she hadn't been expecting him. "I wasn't looking for Lily," he managed. He swallowed again. "I er—I was looking for you, Alice."

"Looking for me?" she closed the book on her finger, pinching it without thinking and then opening it up again with a slight grimace at her own clumsiness. Frank looked down at the page; it was the index just as he'd suspected. "Have I done something wrong?"

"No," he remarked. "No, not at all. I. . . I wanted to talk to you."

"Oh," she breathed a sigh of relief.

"I wanted to ask you something, and if you say no, then I'll understand completely. Everyone keeps telling me it won't hurt if I just ask. They say it'll hurt more if I don't, but what do they know? They aren't the ones that have to ask." He was babbling.

"I'm sorry," she shook her head. "I don't understand."

"No?" He laughed a little, a nervous titter. "No, that's because I'm motoring on without thinking really. I was wondering, Alice," he wanted to close his eyes and wait for her answer, at least that way he wouldn't see the no coming, but the other part of him wanted desperately to see her face. He thought he'd know for sure if Lily Evans was telling him the truth. "Would you like to come with me to Hogsmeade next weekend?"

It had slipped out of him without a thought, he noticed.

Alice was surprised, and at first, he thought, horrified. "Hogsmeade?"

"Yes, like. . ." Oh, how did he say it? He felt his face growing more warm with every passing second.

"Like on a date?" she finished for him? He thought he noted a nervous squeak in her voice.

"Like on a. . . yeah," he nodded. "Yeah, like on a date. Just the two of us? I'd really like to take you and. . ."

"I'd love to," she nearly jumped in her seat, closing the book on her fingers again, only this time she dropped it then on the floor, and when he bent to pick it up for her, she bent as well, and the two of them bumped heads. "Ow!" She cried. "Oh, darn! I'm so sorry."

He returned to a standing position, rubbing at the place atop his head where surely a mother of a goose egg would begin to sprout. He found a goofy smile starting to lift the corners of his mouth, "It's all right, no worries." He handed the book over to her. "So you will come with me then? To Hogsmeade, I mean?"

"I'd love to," she repeated, this time more subtly. "It'll be a good time."

"Yes," he agreed. "It will." She took the book back from him and he looked down at it. "So what are you reading there?"

"Oh, this?" She held it up. "Daring the Dark Arts Advanced Theory and Practice by Morgause Millhenge."

"Dark Arts?" He pulled a curious face.

"Oh, it's nothing like that," she laughed, obviously a little more comfortable than she'd been before. "I'm studying to become an auror. That was why Professor McGonagall recommended you to tutor me in Transfigurations. I need to get an OWL at the end of this term in all the necessary subjects and Transfigurations was really giving me a hard time. Or at least it was. . ."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, it's gotten a bit easier since you've been helping," she explained. "I passed my pre-holiday exam with flying colors."

"Congratulations."

"Thank you," she blushed. "Thank you for that, and for helping me."

"It was no problem," he looked down at his shoes, and could feel his face reddening with nervousness again. "I enjoy helping you."

This time she blushed. "Would you want to sit down?" She asked. "Have tea with us? I've been waiting for the trolley all afternoon."

"I thought I saw it the next car up."

"Oh, good," she sighed relief. "So what do you say? Would you like to have tea?"

Frank could feel the palpitations of his heart growing more rapid with excitement, "I uh. . ." of course he wanted to have tea. Of course he wanted to spend every waking moment in her company, getting to know her, but what would he talk about? "I'd love to." He agreed.

"Good," she said once more. "Won't you have a seat then? All this standing is making me a bit nervous."

And then she laughed, a nervous giggle that nearly matched the one that Frank could feel building up inside him. He danced around for a moment, making a complete idiot of himself until at long last he took a comfortable seat across from her. Once he had made himself comfortable she asked quite casually, "So what are your plans after school, Frank?"

"Oh," he started. "I'm off to the auror training program this summer."

"Really? That's so exciting. . . I'm to become an auror myself. . ."

And there the conversation began. Neither Frank, nor Alice even noticed that Lily Evans and Remus Lupin never returned to their train compartment that afternoon, and if they did notice, they didn't seem to care. The train rolled on, until the last shades of daylight disappeared behind the veil of night. It was the beginning of something beautiful, or at least that was what Lily Evans thought, as she watched Frank Longbottom and Alice Delaney exit the train and catch one of the thestral drawn carriages to Hogwarts together. It gave her hope, and a good feeling inside to see the two of them together, just as she knew in her heart they were meant to be.

**_A/N: A barcarolle is Venetian boat song that is either in 6/8 or 12/8 time--and is characterized by the alteration between a strong and weak beat, mimicking the rowing rhythm. The last song in the Alice musical is a piece of music that reflects this pattern, and so I tried to encapsulate that effect with Frank going back and forth between wanting to ask Alice and not wanting to because what if she said no... or what if she said yes?_**

I hope you all enjoyed this story as much as I did writing it. I know that there will be those who are disappointed that it didn't go further than the asking of a simple date that would inevitably lead to it all. Thank you for reading with me, and for all the lovely comments that have been left to honor Frank.

Llewellyn 


End file.
